That Night (When I lost you and myself)
by AnneMarie2106
Summary: This is just an one-shot account of Elena's thoughts leading up to the crash into the grill. I wrote it a little like poetry, but it is not in verse. Sneak Peek: It began on a summer night with a mistaken identity. A mistaken identity, passionate words, and a delay of everything inevitable. It began on a summer night when she was lost, and he found her. That's when it began.


**So this is my first fanfiction. I hope you like it. I apologize if there is grammar errors. I don't have a beta. So, enjoy. Please review if you want to.**

It began on a summer night with a mistaken identity. A mistaken identity, passionate words, and a delay of everything inevitable. It began on a summer night when she was lost, and he found her. That's when it began.

That is how she remembers it now. As death approaches, she sits, just sits in the seat of his Camaro. They say your life flashes before your eyes, in a way, I suppose that is true for her.

It began on a summer night, but it didn't end there. It spanned years. Years where he danced with her in her blue dress at her mother's event, the one she wanted them to do together. The one they never get to do together. Years with white party dresses, and flasks of bourbon.

As the car drives closer to the border, that is all she can see and all she can feel. But, no, she can also feel his hand entwined in hers, they fit together as perfectly as ever. And she knows, she knows that this isn't the end. They will have forever, they will travel, they will fight, and they will love each other until the end of time. After all, he promised, he wouldn't break that. He would not break her.

But the assurances slip by her mind. Instead, she remembers his speech that made her fall in love all over again. The one where he did not apologize; the one where she did not either. She remembers the fire, the dress, their kiss, her hands in his hair, and crystal blue eyes.

She glances up when she feels the pain. No, not pain, but the claustrophobic, confining, fearful feeling of drowning. The water fills her lungs and spills out of her mouth. She remembers this the all-too-familiar feeling of drowning. She remembers it from the times when she should have died.

The first time when she had only met him. Before, doppelgangers and sacrifices by the light of the moon and the bone deep feeling of grief that has left its mark on her more than even her deaths. She could have died and they wouldn't be here. She _should _have died, so they wouldn't be here. But, her real death came two years later, in the same place, ironic really. But, even then she hadn't died. Again, she could have, she should have, but her connection to vampires pulled her once more into the land of the living.

She feels the car speed up, and his hand tightens on her hand. She sees the deep red stain in his shirt. The blood leaking over the buttons, the crimson eating up the white. She realizes they must have crossed the border. Then, she is gone again into the well of memories. This time, they slip by her faster. Faster than even the water spilling into her lungs and up her throat. She sees desperate kisses in a motel in Denver and a feverish one in his bed facing down death. These slide out of her grasp, replaced by recollections of that summer. The blessedly happy one, they spent believing everything could just be fine. It is idealistic and sad when she thinks about it, but she had never felt more alive then. And more memories come, overloading her with kisses and rain and promises of forever. Of ideals and hopefulness and morality. Of all the people they have lost, all the ones he helped her grieve.

They're so close now. A hundred yards and a fraternity house kiss. Ninety-five and they're in Georgia, and she's pleading for his life, oblivious of what he means to her. Ninety and she sees him after Katherine arrived, and he's terribly broken, so broken. Eighty feet and this time it's her who breaks him when she tells him he can't be forgiven. Seventy-five and he dances with her at prom. Seventy and they're at Caroline's decade dance. Sixty, it's all going so quickly, and now they are dancing in his living room and he's kissing her and she's kissing back. Fifty-five and they're at Jeremy's parent-teacher conference and he's making her laugh (and drool). A small sputter barely a laugh escapes her lips, lost among the water pouring out. Fifty and they broke the bed. Forty, he's dying in a fire and she her only thought is to save him, she had to save him. Thirty-five and he erases Jeremy's memories, and he does it for her. Twenty-five and a phone call from her dorm to him when they had the virus and she was dying (and so he was too). Twenty and him cleaning her up in the bathroom before the funeral, when they first met Connor. He had called her his girlfriend, it wasn't true, but in a way it was. Fifteen and she runs into his arms when she is afraid and losing herself and then she is, they're dancing again, this time at the Mikaelson's. Thirteen and she tells him that she sees a future with him. Ten and she feels the dread. But, then she remembers being in that room on her birthday wearing that white dress. She thinks maybe white dresses are their thing and then she remembers her blue satin dress and the black ball gown and her blood red prom dress. She remembers him giving her the necklace and she fell in love in that second.

And then it's all gone. Her memories explode in the supernova of fire and passion and pain that was always Damon and Elena. They shatter into the oblivion that is death.

**And there it is. So hit the button and tell me if you loved it, hated it or went "eh". **


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